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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27068512">Festival night</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lil_Sparrow/pseuds/Lil_Sparrow'>Lil_Sparrow</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Don't Judge Me, F/M, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I'm Bad At Titles, Sweet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-09 00:21:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,950</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27068512</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lil_Sparrow/pseuds/Lil_Sparrow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Crane is tired, sleep deprived and hungry. Ivy's just bored.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jonathan Crane/Pamela Isley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Festival night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>WARNING<br/>Work features kgs and a metric system, be aware, protect yourself</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>64.2. He blinked, looking at the meter again with his eyes slightly narrowed, adjusting his glasses, before stepping down to restart  bathroom scales and trying again. No, still the same. It's been a long time since he had been that light. Scarecrow licked his lips, hiding device under the sink, looking at a very tired men in the mirror, with his razor sharp cheekbones and bags under eyes, which looked almost fake. He always overworked himself during autumn months to prepare something special for Halloween. It's not like he did it every year. Last one Joker took the lead, so this one should be his. All that said, he felt like disappearing into thin air. He needs food. But firstly a nice hot shower.<br/>
After about half an hour of souping up his too-long-to-bear hair under hot water, he looked in the mirror once again. He really needs to find some barber shop near this hideout because it's just embarrassing. How long it's been since he visited one of these? A year? He never had enough time for those little things, Crane even wanted to try cutting it himself a few times, but scissors always seemed to disappear whenever they were needed. Man run a hand through his very own Tennessee waterfall there, deciding it would take too long to make some kind of ponytail, trying not to think how is he supposed to hide that under his mask later.<br/>
"Red fall festival". Sounds familiar. Yes, back at his professor days some colleague from a university dragged him to one of these, where they ate some sticky caramel apples that were impossible to get out of your teeth. His legs turned in direction of the fair. Being honest, he should have waited until morning, going out so close to the Bat hours was dangerous, but psychiatrist wasn't sure if his stomach wouldn't digest other nearby organs. Crane stopped, breathing in all the wonderful smells, from pumpkin soup to buttered corn, hotdogs and apple pies.<br/>
"One gluhwein, please."<br/>
"Commin right up, dearie."<br/>
He smiled as friendly as possible, while some fat lady poured him a glass of hot wine with cinnamon and citruses. In his other hand he held a still warm chowder, absently looking at the clouds of steam coming up and soon vanishing. Placing money on the counter and nodding, he walked off, scanning the area for a seat, ignoring how stomach loudly protested, begging to eat right there, standing in the middle of a crowd. He isn't that desperate. Plastic grey tables were moved in a way, that created long stripes across the square, somewhat resembling centipedes with legs made out of chairs. Finally, his eyes found a spot near the fountain, where he quickly adjusted himself, directly on those cold smooth stairs, with the water running behind his back. Thin fingers ripped off a piece of white bread, dipping it into a soup, before placing in a mouth. At that moment, he was in heaven. Crane took a full spoon of hot liquid, mentally smiling at the consistency, nothing even near that dirty cabbage water at Arkham. It was definitely worth all the money. With his eyes closed, man silently indulged at the feeling of his insides being filled with food. But the pleasure hadn't lasted for long.<br/>
"Crane?"<br/>
He was frozen, eyes still closed. Well, it's a common last name, nothing to worry about, how many Cranes can there be?<br/>
"Crane."<br/>
Now it wasn't a question, but a statement. And the voice sounded oddly familiar. He finally stopped squinting, but didn't move his head, instead taking a sip of his wine and getting over the list of potential owners of the line. Thank God, he didn't need to think for too long. She herself got into his eyesight, hissing like a disturbed snake.<br/>
"If you think you can ignore me, believe, it's not going to be easy."<br/>
Why can't he eat in peace? He looked her over, not saying anything, quietly chewing on an overcooked shrimp. Well, she wasn't the one he expected.<br/>
"Doctor Isley."<br/>
Brunette took another spoonful, putting it in his mouth, getting his head over the surrealism of the situation. His intruder must have been thinking about the same thing.<br/>
Frankly, she wasn't sure why did she call or even approach him. Maybe she hated being ignored too much, so couldn't just let go. He looked even more tired than usually. His hair got longer since their last encounter, if you can call a shared look months ago at Arkham. She was sure that that long coat of his and a scarf were just hiding an alarmingly skinny body.<br/>
"You look like shit."<br/>
"Nice to meet you too."<br/>
Pamela sit down on his side, eying his face, with these characteristic angular features and dry skin. Oh, years weren't kind to him, not even a little, but she couldn't deny that long wavy hair did suit him, especially when it was clean and fluffy like that.<br/>
"I didn't recognize you immediately."<br/>
"And what gave me away?" his hand reached out to grab a drink, finishing it in one gulp, looking a bit disappointed that it ran out so fast.<br/>
"Not every guy in Gotham is a 2 meter tall stick," she watched as he started scrubbing what was left of mussels from the bottom of a plastic plate, before tossing it into the bin. "Also, man of your age don't usually wear a lions mane on their head."<br/>
"I'm only four years older than you." Scarecrow got up, lazily stretching, almost impolitely for someone like him, before looking around. It wasn't even nearly enough. She didn't need to think much about it, already realising what was on his mind.<br/>
"I saw a stand with some grilled veggies and sausages not far away."<br/>
He raised a brow, but slowly nodded, letting her lead the way. Thinking about it, he felt kind of strange without his mask, while walking behind Poison Ivy. She wasn't a person he saw in a "normal" environment, all the costumes and "evil plans" aside.<br/>
"Vegetarian hotdog with a lentil sausage, please, and without package," two emeralds stared at him patiently.<br/>
"Classic, fried onions on top, and a pumpkin-tomato kebab."<br/>
Partially, he was glad she became his unexpected company. On a festival like that "a 2 meter tall stick", walking around alone was a bit strange. Some people would give him second glances. They ate standing near a small round table, rarely braking into conversation, mostly observing little groups of people: families, friends, couples, colleagues, how they went from one place to another, talking and eating their troubles away.<br/>
"I wasn't aware you were a vegetarian," he finally shattered the thin icy silence between them.<br/>
"I don't mind eating meat, it's not about animals, but more about the farms and atmosphere," no details were needed when talking to Crane. Talk too much, and he would think you're doubting his intelligence.<br/>
After a second he nodded. Yeah, it makes sense, why didn't he find an answer sooner? "You weren't thinking I feed on sunlight, right?"<br/>
Psychiatrist made a strange sound, fastly exhaling, like he was about to laugh, and pressed the back of his wrist against his lips, surprising himself with the reaction.<br/>
"Doctor, you're destroying my theories at root," his face became a cold mask once again, but the voice was thick with sarcasm.<br/>
"Pity, maybe next I should edit my psychological portrait you keep in your head?"  she leaned closer, noticing how he immediately tensed up, standing straight. Cautious, as always. Nice. "May I interest you in some hot cider?"<br/>
"You're tempting me," before he realised what he was doing, ends of his lips curled up on their own. Was he flirting? And all it took just a glass of gluhwein. Isley, on the other hand, had everything under control, smirking at him, slightly titling her head at the side where the drinks were. Maybe having another wouldn't hurt, besides, it wasn't clear what could happen to him when they meet again if he refused now.</p><p>"There was one thing I wanted to know," she hold out a thermos to a seller, asking if he can pour a drink in there, before turning to him, "should I expect surprises from you on Halloween? Or this year is free too?"<br/>
"Well, it wouldn't be a surprise if I told you, or would it?" Jonathan moved his cup closer, taking a sip, licking some foam from his upper lip. Ivy gave him an unimpressed look, opening her wallet in the same time as he.<br/>
"No, my treat, you can later tempt me for a slice of apple pie." she gave out the needed amount and crossed her fingers around the thermos, warming them up, watching how steam danced around in the air.<br/>
"How generous. Should I be scared?" Crane theatrically backed off, brushing a hand against his neck, even managing a small smile out of her. Their little chat must have looked harmless from someone else's perspective. Alcohol was clearly getting the best of him.<br/>
"Save the charm, Oogie Boogie." Pamela chuckled, watching as his expression began changing in surprise, and sighed in her cup. She couldn't call him "straw man" in public, could she? One small mistake may cost her an evening out of laboratory. One word and a tall guy with long hair with a green-eyed redhead don't seem so innocent anymore. Someone notices similar features, someone takes a photo, someone walks up to an officer. No. She didn't want that.<br/>
"I'm not sure if they sale pies without any packaging. Or did you bring your own plates too?" Crane curiously titled his head, observing the way salesman was staring at them. Did she really need to turn attention to them because of some disposable cup? Was it worth it? But he didn't ask her out loud.<br/>
"They don't, but who is stopping me from eating out of yours? Just place both slices on one and I assure you, my conscience will be clear." she looked up, trying to understand what caught his eye. Their previous stop. The bald guy behind the counter was whispering something to his friend, waving a hand in their direction. Huh, everything made sense now. Ivy grabbed his elbow, getting him closer, not giving a shit about the fact he tried to push her away. His face was rigid, but expression the same.<br/>
"I'm not going to kill you in the middle of a street." her voice turned into a menacing whisper, "Just act normally."<br/>
"I am acting normal, there is no need to yank me towards you if you want us to look like a couple," he growled, but stopped trying to get away. "They're staring just because a certain someone cares too much about environment."<br/>
Isley caught herself before growling back at him something like "this someone's going to boil your balls in cider if you don't shut up". No, no, it wasn't worth it, so she took another sip, taming herself.<br/>
"I hope this year there aren't going to be any dirigibles?"<br/>
Scarecrow blinked, he needed a moment to process the question and another to come up with a nice answer.<br/>
"And we without any pumpkins attacking people?"<br/>
"Touche." the smirk on her face returned, despite the annoyance slowly growing inside. It was impossible for their eyes to meet when he was this close. "You know, we can make an interesting duo. Sure there will be some intriguing plans, if we manage not to rip each others throats," her ears picked up a cackling and she even threw her head back, just to be sure it came from him. And there he was beside her, eyes closed, his adams apple moving up and down, showing up from under the old scarf. Ivy noticed a light red blush, a cider side effect, at least she thought so.<br/>
"Like a flycatchers that, as a result photosynthesis, release my Phobos?" his words were just loud enough for her to hear.<br/>
"Flycatchers aren't the best choice."<br/>
"Well, it sounds cool."<br/>
She never thought that Crane can say "cool" about anything, and was about to tell him that but saw the way the way two icy shards glanced at her, sparkling strangely. Jerk. Her fingers clutched his elbow, drawing out another chuckle.<br/>
"You know, my dates usually get poisoned or dragged to bed."<br/>
Pamela observed (not even trying to hold a smile) how he blinked, confused, slowly raising his brows at her, attempting to find a polite way to ask if they were on an actual date. It was her turn to laugh. He quietly waited for her to finish giggling in her cup, before looking around. They were going God knows were, leaving the fair behind, and for a second he believed she really was planning on killing him in a nearby alleyway. Fear slowly climbed along his spine, catching him off guard, like somrthing grabbed him by the neck, starting to strangle. He wasn't resisting (for now), mentally going through all the ways he can escape. And then she turned almost all 180° and pulled him with her in the direction of the market. Everything was fine. His face didn't show anything, but the relief came like a nice warm shower. Psychiatrist distantly acknowledged how much power was in this small fragile-looking body. Poisons and plants were one thing, the other was physical strength, which he never really questioned in her. She was dangerous enough without it. Nevertheless, she was almost carrying him like a sack of potatoes and didn't seem to care. Is it her or was he just so exhausted?<br/>
"What were you saying about the pies?"</p><p>There were finally some free places to sit. Part of the crowd thinned out, mostly families with children who need to go to school next morning, and another wave of people still hasn't appeared. Scarecrow didn't even say anything when she pulled out a cutlery set from her purse and placed the dish between them with two, sparkling under the lantern light, slices.<br/>
"Bon appetit."<br/>
"Thank you."<br/>
He bit down, enjoying how crust crunched under his teeth, and took a sip of a second gluhwein.<br/>
"Mm, this one has grapefruit," man stared at her, thinking if it was even genial to offer her. "Try some."<br/>
Isley gave him a skeptical glance, was he mocking her? But his face was as always – unreadable. After failing in discovering a hidden motive, she slowly brought a cup to her lips just in the same place where his own were a moment ago.<br/>
"Not bad," she hummed to herself, uncertain, "Maybe even better than with oranges."<br/>
"Take another sip."<br/>
He was testing her. She narrowed her eyes, clearly questioning the "kindness" of the individual next to her. Not like he can really hurt her. But what was the idea? Get a DNA sample from her spit? She's drinking from the same spot as he is, there's no way it's going to work. Another gulp.<br/>
"Are you trying to get me drunk, doctor? Want the second ending?"<br/>
Crane accepted his drink back, quaffing it, tasting some mixed in strawberry flavor from her lipstick, licking his lips without thinking. Fuck. Her grin was that of a hunter catching his prey without leaving a house. He almost started coughing, covering his mouth with a hand. His eyes said everything.<br/>
"I would like to stay aside from both."<br/>
Isley picked up her spoon, nibbling on her own dessert, before placing the whole thing in her mouth, getting rid of the jam.<br/>
"I think you would like mine too."<br/>
Scarecrow glanced at the piece she offered, carefully picking up silverware in his own hand. She isn't expecting him to eat from hers, right? It was already embarrassing. He licked off what was left, noticing how she raised a brow on that, returning her the spoon.<br/>
"Sour. You were right, I liked it," he purposefully removed imagined bits of fruit from his fingers and returned to his slice, not watching her reactions anymore. God, he could only hope Poison Ivy didn't add him to the list of enemies because of some fucking pie. She started eating again, having no idea what just happened. Was he teasing her? Was it a demonstration of his odd way of flirting? Or was it a kind of provoking her? She didn't get it and it made angry and strangely happy, but where did the last one come from was a mystery. </p><p>"There is one last thing," Pamela got up and he finally stopped hypnotising his empty plate, glancing up at her, "I wanted to do." Her smile was almost disturbing. Well, he just signed his death sentence. He frowned a bit, straightening up, being met with a tiny palm.<br/>
"Lead the way, doctor," he let her take his hand in hers. </p><p>To his surprise, she was hot and soft to the touch. Unlike him. Ivy, maybe subconsciously, had noticed it too, carefully warming his spider-like fingers with her own, while leading them to the stand, where they picked up cider. She didn't want to risk even a headline in some small newspaper. Somewhere along the way, she pulled him aside, taking both of his wrists, closing distance between them. Her face was expressionless and calm, while he stopped himself from backing off only with a power of will. What was that even for?<br/>
"What do you have?"<br/>
Crane blinked once again on her question, it was clearly his way of dealing with surprises, and she noticed that his eyelashes were actually pretty long.<br/>
"A syringe and a gun."<br/>
"Both too loud," she hummed, brushing a thumb over his cold skin, before something else caught her eye. "Say, do you really love this scarf of yours?"<br/>
"I think I'll survive without one," he got it off, curiousity eating him alive, not even noticing that his hand returned into her palm.<br/>
"I'll buy you another one."<br/>
Her eyes lit up playfully, she was clearly enjoying the situation. They moved towards the stand, Crane trying not to rush her. It's one thing when he walked behind her, but now the difference between their steps was actually noticeable, well, to him.<br/>
"So what's the plan?" he silently bend down, breathing into her ear.<br/>
"Distract him, don't scare off, just make him go closer to the park, I'll take care of the rest. Quietly, quickly, no witnesses. I don't want to get on the news because of one evening."<br/>
A heavy "in your company" wasn't said, but he mentally felt how it was pressing on his head. He shook it off, there were things to do.<br/>
"Pardon me, but you haven't returned the change. I bought a glass of cider, you owe me some cash."<br/>
"Hey, look," salesguy paused, not amused, "I've lot of customer, man, you think I'll rememb-" he didn't even finish the word, staring at him wide-eyed.<br/>
"Oh, but I think you do remember," he leaned over the counter, light smile on his face, nearly friendly. "Let's go have a chat. Sounds good? Just you and me, promise, I won't do anything."<br/>
"I… okay."<br/>
It wasn't like he had a choice anyway. Scarecrow nodded him in the direction of the trees, closely following. If he tries to run, he can easily catch him. Their victim barely made it, trembling like a last leaf on a dying branch. And they waited. Crane waited for that furious redhead to appear and man for his end. Is she expecting him to do this? Or was it her way of dodging an evening with him? He almost jumped when a body hit the ground, with Pamela on top, scarf wrapped around his neck. He didn't even make a sound. Doctor watched as he struggled, desperately clinging to his life until he couldn't. Well, that could have been him. He shook his head, getting those annoying little thoughts out, finding a distraction. The scarf. She threw it off, not even trying to hide the weapon which was ripped in two or three places, dirty, and even a Gotham policeman will wrap a head around what happened.<br/>
"I'm impressed."<br/>
Her smile got slightly wider.<br/>
"Save it, darling, you may need that sweetness later."<br/>
Scarecrow overlooked her work and hold out a hand himself, pointing with his eyes at the festival.<br/>
"No, I have a better idea."</p><p>Two dark figures were sitting on a lonely bench that was barely near the fair, their conversation sometimes interrupted with laughter. On the ground beneath them stood a small barrel of cider, which they poured into a thermos, passing it from time to time.<br/>
"Our first crime. Next we should try shoplifting. I would toast with you but I can't."<br/>
Pamela snorted at that, very ladylike, if he's being honest. He glared at her, but didn't say a thing. It probably saved a few of his bones with the way she stared back. They were both clearly drunk, but did it matter? She pulled out a cup from his hand, wincing. Yes, the taste wasn't so off-putting when the liquid was hot.<br/>
"I've got carried away, sorry for the scarf."<br/>
"No worries, you promised me a new one anyway," he titled his head so far back, that it could probably break his neck, looking at the dark sky with no stars to gaze at. Maybe if they were out of town- "Yeah, I've had enough."<br/>
"Me too," she looked at the half empty barrel almost with disgust. "Should we leave it here?"<br/>
"Yes. Do you have his wallet?" his neck looked normal again.<br/>
"I don't see a point of leaving it here, police will just assume someone killed him just because of money."<br/>
So cruel, so cold, and this is the Quinn of Flora? He would laugh at even expecting anything else, and still it made his heart rate jump up. Or maybe he was drunk. Or tired. Maybe insane if he read through some notes in Arkham.<br/>
Crane got up after her, stretching his limbs. The evening came to an end, it was clear, but what should he say now? She saved him from thinking.<br/>
"It was fun, doctor Crane. Take care of yourself." She reached out a hand to shake his like any other villain of their kind.<br/>
"Thanks, doctor Isley, you too. See you later?" It came out wrong. It was supposed to be a statement, empty, careless finish line but…<br/>
"Surely."</p><p>His next week wasn't any different from one before, just piles of work which he, happily, jumped into like a madman. There was barely any time left before Halloween came and he still needed to patch up his costume and find a few mercenaries. Scarecrow quickly threw a coat on, frowning, as there wasn't anything to hide his neck. Oh, yes. That night. It didn't seem real, but somehow it was.<br/>
As he walked out of his apartment, Crane stumbled on a small box with an orange ribbon, sitting at his doorstep and waiting for him to open it. Bad. Very carefully, he picked it up, pressing an ear to the side. No tickling. And pretty light too. Probably not a bomb. He straightened up, looked around, like there was some secret inside, and backed off to his place. Was it even for him? There were no addresses, no stamps – nothing. He stopped breathing, opening it (there could be poison inside) but was met with a paper bag and a note. "Yellow suits you better." Psychiatrist winced at the bag and pulled out its contents. To his surprise, there was nothing deadly, just a lemon colored scarf out of, he presumed, acrilic fur, soft and fluffy. Huh.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Literally just me, trying to translate my own work and not make a shit out of it. Gotta practith mah English here, folks. (Don't judge too harsh)<br/>Also, LOVE this pairing, thanks to @onlyherefirthesmut for silently inspiring me (love ya)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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